Blogger, realist, clarifier, if there is such a term. Truth teller, who's not afraid to admit I'm wrong. Hellacious, renegade violist and "computer whisperer"; was once accused of practicing the Dark Arts with systems.
I'm tougher than most and survived things that would have killed most women. I still love life. I was homeless, now I'm not. Still in the 'hood, though. Nebraska Avenue, 33605. The stories are priceless and endless.

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Monday, April 15, 2013

BLOGGING FROM A TO Z APRIL 2013 – LETTER “M”

MIND,
MOOD and MEMORY

I
blogged about this for the Parkinson's P.A.N.D.A. Foundation once. At
least I think I did. As I remember it. The funny thing about these
three “M” words, is that they are closely linked. We tend to
remember our experiences colored by our moods at that moment; good or
bad, or blah, or happy, or mad. An obvious statement if ever there.

But, how
reliable are our memories really when we are mentally ill, or are
dealing with something like a bipolar condition? Or Asperger? Is it
possible to go back later on and dissect some incident of the past in
a rational manner, when you weren't in a rational state of mind
during the incident itself?

My brain is attached to my mouth and it's going constantly.

I think
if one is able to look at one's own behavior dead on and honestly,
that answer is “yes.” I've done it. Over the past year, I've
learned a lot about what it means to live with all manner of odd
behavior; running the spectrum of being numb (not catatonic) to just
short of schizophrenia. I have a cousin who is schizophrenic and has
been most of her life. Consequently, I am shunned by the rest of my
surviving family. Not that I give a damn.

Other
than my first psychotic break, I've been able to either get on top of
my episodes of dementia and remember them, and I've only come close
twice to full-blown psychosis again. These are usually brought on my
physical triggers and I know I have to get to a hospital. The saving
grace is, I remember them. I didn't the first time and that must have
been a doozy. The 2nd time, I called 911, here came the
fire trucks and half of the Tampa Police Department. Oh my! I
remember Officer Fair and he lived up to his name.

Officer Fair was nice, but nervous. I think he thought I might bite him. My dad cured me of that when I was 4. He bit me back. That shit hurt!

So,
either because I'm a fast learner, or because I don't want to spend
my life in either the Mental Hospital or Jail, I figured I should
learn some of the triggers. Frustration, total lack of understanding
by people who should know better and problems with my sugar play huge
issues. It's amazing how large a part some of these things can play,
especially if they build up day by day. But, everyone has these
issues and they don't go off the deep end. This is where the
Parkinson's comes in. It is a constant emotional roller coaster. Up
and down. There is no even keel. It's like bipolar on speed.

Every once in a while, I get the bradykinesia (freezing, or stop-action movement) associated with Parkinson's. It's weird, just weird. Mostly, I'm ahead of myself. Chronos is broken.

Anyway,
I think it is possible to go back and mindfully dissect those
memories. Bad mood, good mood, to draw conclusions that will help in
the future. I really, really don't want to wake up in some Mental
Ward, having been Baker Acted (committed in Florida) again after a month's sleeplessness, with a psychiatrist asking
me, “Just what were you trying to do? Hmmm?”

Itinerant violist and computer trouble-shooter for more years than I care to admit. While no longer homeless, still crazy, but with Labels *sigh* a bus-riding Asperger, bipolar-ridden, PD or non-PD, carbon life-form, providing fodder for Medical community. Not even kidding. Still ridiculous.

Acquiring a much richer and fuller experience and finding deeper meaning in day to day life, than I ever learned in a classroom, concert hall, or computer center. I will never believe that things just occur randomly, just monumentally disordered.

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Eventually everything happens on Nebraska Avenue. The pimps have been here, both the real and the political. The athletes and the artists. It's a life, a state of mind and it's home, Nebraska Avenue, 33605, 33602 and 33604.

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